


A Song of Identity

by Rusalkii



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Gen, Identity Issues, Implied Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-15
Updated: 2014-02-15
Packaged: 2018-01-12 13:02:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1186550
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Rusalkii/pseuds/Rusalkii
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Reek, reek, it rhymes with sneak. But who is Ramsay?<br/>[Just a little play in writing from Ramsay's POV.]</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Song of Identity

And there he was. The creature that was Theon Greyjoy. It made bile rise up in his throat. The little ironborn lordling that had ventured too far from the sea. Now just a dried-out husk of kraken, turned sour at his own hand. A fish clipped from his wings. His stink. His artistry. His creation. _His Reek_.

  
And yet, _and yet,_ Theon Greyjoy was a name that he found most hard to forget. Reek forgot, more often than not, and Theon clawed with desperation to block it out, but Ramsay remembered. His father made sure he always remembered.

  
No-one had wanted his original Reek. That Reek was his, and his alone. _This_ one, although torn and tattered, gelded and flayed, there were some who still had want of him. Some that would still find their uses for him. Ramsay did not like that. There were some who would still steal him, and that was the way of it. It made him flawed. It made him broken, and Ramsay would often question his own ability as to whether he could repair him. He did not like it when he had to question himself, either. He must make him better. _Make him perfect._

  
It was so close that he could almost taste his victory. Yet first, _he must always remember who he is, and come back willingly_. Reek must not only belong to Ramsay, but _be_ him. He must realise that of his own accord, to achieve his ultimate perfection. The original Reek had died to be him. He had known his fate, and still he done so without question. He had wanted to be Ramsay, as Ramsay had become Reek.

  
 _But who is Ramsay_? The questions would always mount and multiply inside his head, where he let his mind drift at all. He knew what he was not. He was no shadow, a slave to light, only a darkness devoid of identity. True shadow. True blood. Only identified by that which he had stripped from others. No-one had true want of him, not his mother, nor even his father, and he had especially enjoyed playing Reek for a short while. Knowing who and what he was had been a small respite. He had played that role well.

  
Perhaps Ramsay had always been more Reek, than Reek was Ramsay. Entities all brutally entwined into a nest of limbs and flesh, all cut, dismembered and stitched, in ways that you could not tell one from another. He knew himself to be a darkness that had spread to many mouths, fouling their blood and blackening their meat. He had fathered a realm of horror. He had fathered a realm of freaks. The unwanted always wanted the most. Rotten apples that hadn't fallen far from their tree, infested with worms that only he could doctor, and such thoughts made him swell with pride. _This must_ be his identity..

  
Ramsay walked into the stable, his boots licking up the mud that sucked at them. The creature sat up, and he, on closer inspection, didn't look like a Theon Greyjoy anymore. All colour had drained from his face at the realisation that his master was nearby. _Anticipation_. His wiry white hair was stuck to his face with old sweat, and dirt and dog muck clung to a side where he had been nesting. His neck was bruised from the collar's grip, and he was pulled so tight in the corner of the stone walls with chains. The rags he wore barely covered him, and he must have found some warmth in the dirt. It amused Ramsay that his pet had somehow managed to contort himself into comforts for sleep. _Clever Reek_.

  
"You will hunt with me today, Reek." He made it sound almost casual.

  
"It - It would be a pleasure, m - my Lord....." Reek looked guilty and would not meet his master's gaze, and Ramsay knew that traces of Theon must have been sat in his eyelids for at least a few moments that last moon. The gazing of dirty water to ice was something only Reek could do. It was only Reek that mattered, and still Theon tried to steal him away. How he _hated_ that name. It made his fingers clench and brought burning bile to his throat. It was _always_ there. _The putrid little sneak_.

  
Ramsay knelt infront of him and pulled on the chain with one arm, nearly pulling the weightless creature right from the ground as he coughed and spluttered dry against the tightening of his dog collar. He foamed from his mouth like the good little pet. Ramsay searched for signs of Theon across his marred face. He would find him so easily if he were hiding. Reek did not fight back, and he did not clutch for his throat in vain with the ironborn's lost fingertips. Instead, he pissed through the jagged fleshy hole between his legs, a raised scar that looked much like two worms fucking. _Ramsay's scar_. Theon would have hated that. The whites of his eyes speckled red before Ramsay concluded that there was only Reek right now. _Good_. No kraken polluting his thoughts and leading him astray. He released the chain and let his creature clamber for breath.

  
"A pleasure? Truly?" _Theon would hate that even more_.

  
"Yes my - my Lord." He looked up at his master then, searching for signs of trickery, and Ramsay chuckled. His Reek knew him well.

  
"Why, thank you, Reek. As it happens, I have some fine meat for us today." He ran his fingers through his creature's hair, a pleasure only he would give him, and he loved how much he tensed - in shock or fear, it did not matter - before allowing himself to relax into it. "I think it will be to your tastes, you must be hungry."

  
"Yes, my lord. I - I really am. Thankyou." He whimpered. Ramsay grinned to himself, knowing that even if Reek had a bellyful of the finest meat a butcher could find, soaked in expensive wine and with the most exotic spices, his other hungers would always remain. Only Ramsay would ever have Reek fully. Only Ramsay could see how close he was to perfection. He allowed his head in his lap, a reward only Reek was allowed, and found himself relishing the gooseprickles that his touch left behind. "Th - Thankyou, my lord."

  
He only heard the ironborn's voice then. _Too close_. Ramsay kneed his head away for distance in a sudden familiar stab of revulsion - at himself, at Reek, or Theon, he could never tell - yet it did not matter as there it was. He stood to his feet. Reek cowered and moved back against the wall with wide-eyes.

  
As hard as it was for him to admit to himself, and as much as he hated the name, Theon had a certain flare that Ramsay did enjoy. He had bent him so far where most would snap. _Reek would not have been possible without Theon_.

  
"Pitiful Reek." Ramsay sucked at his bottom lip. He half expected himself to kick some of the mud and muck from the floor to the creature's face, but Reek had been good, and he was a kind master. Better to confuse and leave him questioning... minds often deal out far worse punishments, and Theon's could run wild. Theon would kill himself first, above all. Leaving only Reek. He might then realise who he _really_ is, sooner rather than later. " _The shadows come to dance, my love. The shadows come to stay._ " He sing-songed mockingly, as he left his Reek. He was comforted that he would be right where he left him as he tended to other business, broke his fast, bathed, dressed, and eventually, _willingly_ , sought him out once more, later that day.


End file.
